


Day 16: Necroworld

by GemmaRose



Series: Lost Light Fest 2018 [16]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Brotherhood, Cassetticon Hot Rod, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-14 06:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16487186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: The Necrobot said that he doesn't cast judgement when he plants his sparkflowers, but that doesn't help much when the field around your statue is as large as his.





	Day 16: Necroworld

“Rod.” Ravage’s voice was so soft it barely registered in Rodimus’s audials, and he looked down at his brother with an inquisitive sound. Ravage jerked his helm towards Megatron, who’d somehow slipped away from the group unnoticed despite his bulk and was headed back to the Rod Pod.

“Follow him.” he said after a nano-klik. “Comm me if he leaves the ship.”

Ravage nodded, and Rodimus flickered his inner flame hotter by a few degrees to make up for the loss of his brother’s warmth at his side. He tried to pay attention to what the Necrobot was saying and where his crew were milling off to, he really did, but between wondering what was up with Megatron and the Necrobot’s words about the flowers it was hard to keep his processor in the moment. Twelve lives to a flower, and how many swathes of blue had he seen out the window during their descent? How many statues here, after four _million_ meta-cycles of war, were surrounded by fields of the dead?

::Rod, he’s getting one of the MARBs.:: Ravage commed him, and Rodimus couldn’t help but straighten up slightly. Megatron running off without supervision was a situation he could do something about, if nothing else. He was the captain, Megatron was his responsibility.

::Stall him.:: he replied, slipping away from the loose knot of his crew and starting to jog towards the Rod Pod. ::I’m on my way.::

::Will do.::

He transformed as soon as he was far enough off the sound of his engine wouldn’t draw attention, and once he was moving he didn’t slow until he was practically on the ship’s ramp. He transformed without braking, tumbling helm over aft twice before popping up to his pedes and crossing his arms, fixing Megatron with his sternest look. “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

Megatron shot a glare at Ravage, who studied one of his paws with the same air of detached interest he’d used to look innocent when someone had blamed the twins for his and Laserbeak’s mischief. “You said you saw my statue from the air.” Megatron said stiffly, and Rodimus’s spark sank. Ravage hopped down from the MARB and padded silently over to butt his helm up against Rodimus’s hip, engine rumbling at a familiar pitch that was more felt than heard. The pitch he used to comfort them when words wouldn’t suffice, or would just make things worse.

“It’s been on your mind too, huh?” he rested a hand on Ravage’s shoulder, pulsing gratitude through his field in silent thanks. “The fields of blue.”

“Yes.” Megatron said at length, and Rodimus in-vented deeply.

“If you’re going, I’m going with you.” he said firmly. “I’ll keep my distance if you want, but I’ll not have you wandering off alone.”

Megatron gritted his denta, but eventually sighed and nodded his helm. “But I’ll drive.” he claimed, and Rodimus nodded.

“These things are easier to operate at your size than at mine.” he said, lifting his hand from Ravage’s plating and walking over to the back end of the MARB.

“I suppose that’s true.” Megatron mused, and Rodimus scooted over so Ravage could get up next to him while Megatron stepped up into the control area. The trip was fairly short, the MARB gliding easily over hills speckled with patches of blue sparkflowers, and as they crested one Rodimus’s ventilations stalled. Twelve lives to a flower, that was what the Necrobot had said. He hadn’t seen any statues for nearly two kliks now, and the solid carpet of blue before them could only belong to the distant plinth barely visible against the horizon. From the way the MARB rolled to a halt and Megatron’s vents straight up stopped, he’d be willing to bet the old warlord knew too.

“We’ll wait here.” he said softly, and sent a comm to Rewind to inform everyone that they’d get a fifteen klik warning before they were expected to meet back at the Rod Pod.

“Hey, Rod?” Ravage’s tail twitched in agitation, and Rodimus looked to his brother with a tilt of his helm. “I think there’s a statue we should see, too.” he turned to look off perpendicular to Megatron’s field of blue, field flickering with apprehension before it pulled tight to his frame.

“Whose is it?” he asked, but Ravage was already walking off along the edge of Megatron’s field, plating drawn tight and field so furled it was nigh impossible to read. Rodimus hesitated a nano-klik, looking over at where Megatron was still carefully making his way to the plinth with his statue on it, then shook his helm and grabbed the ignition key for the MARB. It wasn’t like there was any trouble he could get into all the way out here.

He jogged briefly to catch up to Ravage, then slowed and matched his brother’s pace. They walked side by side in silence, and for once Rodimus didn’t feel the need to break it. It was something of a hike, getting to the edge of Megatron’s field, which turned out to be marked by a shallow stream of probably-water. Ravage sniffed it, then waded in, so whatever it was it wasn’t toxic. It tingled strangely against Rodimus’s plating though as he splashed after his brother, and as they scaled the hill on the other side together he shook his legs a little extra with each step to get as much off as he could.

On the other side of the hill, the ground fell out sharply in what looked for all Cybertron like a massive crater. A crater with seven plinths, each surrounded by a sizable array of flowers. “Oh.” the glyph slipped from his vocaliser as if punched free, and Ravage’s field gently pressed against his full of _worry grief comfort?_

“We can leave, if you want.” Ravage said softly, and Rodimus shook his helm.

“I need-” he trailed off, shaking his helm again, and started down the slope. This time instead of walking side by side, Ravage followed at his heels. It was a much deeper crater than he’d thought, and what had seemed like narrow threads of green between the flower fields from the rim were in fact sizable pathways once you got down to them. Soundwave’s statue stood tall and proud in the middle, helm tilted up slightly as if to observe the upper edge of the crater on Rodimus’s right and surrounded by a veritable sea of blue. Behind him were Rumble and Frenzy’s statues, though they looked rather different without their cassette kibble and signature interchangeable paint jobs.

On Soundwave’s right was Ravage’s statue, and in front of him Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, whose statues took full advantage of their holographic nature to pose the bird-formers mid flight. They looked more or less as Rodimus remembered them, though considering how changed Ravage was from the statue on his plinth there was a good chance that Rodimus’s memory was slightly faulty. It _had_ been a few million years since they last properly saw each other, after all. The notable thing about the statues of all his brothers, though, was their posing. Every one of them was looking to Soundwave, 

Finally, on the far side of the crater, Rodimus came to a stop at the edge of a field of blue that rivalled the collection of flowers around the twins. He in-vented deeply, ex-vented, and started towards the plinth. Flowers swayed around his pedes, some sort of built-in system to prevent them from being crushed he guessed, but he didn’t spare more than a passing thought for that. The whole of his attention was focused on white stone, on glyphs he knew like he knew his own spark. The date he’d onlined, the name that had sat heavy on his glossa when his processor booted that morning in Nyon so long ago.

He stopped at the foot of the plinth and brought his optics up to look at the statue, really _look_ at it. Plating dull and scuffed, boxy helm dented, optics sharp and smile hungry. His spark ached, suddenly, for Jumpstart, and he regretted anew that nothing in his subspace had survived Megatron shooting him after he stole the matrix.

“Rod?” Ravage nudged up against his thigh, and Rodimus turned to sit down against the base of the statue.

“I just- I need a klik.” he said shakily, and Ravage padded close to lie down against his side. Flowers, so many flowers. His hand itched, fingers curling in against his palm, wrapping around the memory of a trigger. Jumpstart, Nyon, every mech he’d turned his flames on because Soundwave said to, every mech at Simanzi who he’d half melted just because he _could_. It had been bad enough to have the burning of his first home inked into the skin of his holomatter avatar when they went to Swearth, bad enough that the first time he’d run the program it had produced a jacket with a cassette embroidered across the back in the colours he’d worn as a Decepticon, bad enough that he’d let himself forget at all. To see the proof of his crimes laid out so starkly, a flower for every _dozen_ mechs dead by his hand...

He didn’t realize he was shaking until Ravage got up and flopped back down across his lap, putting a stop to it. His engine rumbled comfortingly, his field full of acceptance, and Rodimus only hesitated a couple of nano-kliks before he bent forward, curling around his brother’s form, and wept.


End file.
